Curiouser and Curiouser
by jaijainagra
Summary: Brenna Mahariel has never been a leader before. Now she must lead her companions in the war against the Blight. Not to mention try to work out where her place is in the world, and where her heart lies. Alistair/F!Mahariel/Zevran love triangle.
1. Chapter 1 Joining

Alistair checked the position of the sun in the sky. They had been in the Korcari Wilds a little over an hour by now, but were close to their goal. A ruined structure was up ahead, which could only be the tower containing the warden cache Duncan had mentioned. He glanced ahead.

Ser Jory seemed to be the most reluctant of the three recruits he was accompanying. He was slightly behind the other two, his footfalls slightly slower. He had seen this reactions to the tests during his own Joining. A man from Denerim, a knight like himself, had shown more and more reluctance as they had gathered their vials of blood, and had nearly refused upon learning they must drink the blood of the things. It hadn't been a surprise to Alistair that he had not survived, all things considered. Still, the poor man had obviously died in pain.

Daveth, meanwhile, was moving with determination, clearly wanting to get this done and get back to camp. Alistair still didn't see the potential Duncan apparently had when he brought the man here, but he wasn't one to question Duncan's opinion. And then, there was Brenna.

The elven woman was just ahead of Daveth. There actually seemed to be a little rivalry between the two rogues. He had to admit, when they had first met he had, again, questioned Duncan's sanity. She seemed so slight and fragile, like just being roared at by a hurlock would cause her to fall down or break. But then they had entered the Wilds, and he had seen her in action. Her life with the Dalish had obviously honed her skills. She fired an arrow quicker then he had seen before, and her prowess with the twin blades on her back was strong.

He also had to admit that she was beautiful. Her dark brown, braided hair and blue-grey eyes contrasted each other, and her lightly tanned skin showed the outdoor life she had lived before she came here. The light brown tattoos on her face were subtle, but there. Yet she seemed shy and cautious around these strangers, the human men and women. As a Dalish, he imagined she had barely interacted with humans before, except for the odd poacher.

As they reached the top of the hill, they were accosted by the biggest number of darkspawn they had seen yet. The three recruits took them out with relative ease. There was no denying their skill. It was only what was in their hearts that would decide their fates. Yet he found himself hoping, foolishly, that the elven woman would survive.

* * *

Brenna was stunned. She had been reluctant to come to Ostagar, missing her clan so much already that it was like physical pain. When she had learnt of the true nature of the joining ritual, a voice in the back of her mind had said: _Well, that's you dead then..._

There had been no doubt in her mind that this would not work. She was already consumed by the taint, weakened by it. Surely taking the darkspawn blood into her body would simply make the poison in her system more potent, and finish what had been started.

She had guessed Jory might die – his reluctance at the tests and rituals had, to her, shown his true colours – but she still felt shock at the nature of his demise. Daveth's death, however, had shocked and scared her. She found herself wondering what that death would feel like.

She had taken the chalice of blood from Duncan, barely hearing his words, and drank deeply. And then... it was as though her head was on fire, then her entire body. She had seen that creature (whatever it had been), and then darkness. Then she had awoken slowly, with Duncan and Alistair looking down at her. Duncan had seem calm and collected, Alistair... there had been relief on his face.

Now, she was having what tasted like rabbit stew, sat by herself inside the food tent. Dark was gradually settling in, and she knew that the plan the king had described during the meeting would soon be coming. She wondered whether King Cailin truly believed she and Alistair were 'the best', as he had said, or whether his words had been empty.

Her experiences with humans, up until the past few days, had been naught but ill. Lecherous market traders, drunken groups of peasants and hunters in the forest had all given her negative views of humans. They only seemed to want to hurt and belittle the elves, especially those of her clan. And the flat ears seemed just as bad. She had heard the tales of them living close together in tiny little dwellings, amongst the sprawl of cities. She couldn't imagine living in such conditions.

And yet... Duncan had helped her. Taken her back to her clan when she would have been unable to go back by herself. Offered her a place within the Wardens, believing in her abilities. And Alistair, the man who had accompanied the recruits into the Wilds, had been friendly with her, joked with her, and had seemed genuinely friendly. There had to be a few good eggs in the basket, she supposed.

The sound of laughter caused her to glance up. A group of four men had just entered the tent. The crest of two of their shields showed them to be Grey Wardens. One of them was Alistair. As they went and collected their own bowls of stew, one of the other men glanced her way and spotted her. Brenna quickly lowered her gaze.

They moved to a table a few along from her own, and sat down. Brenna couldn't hear what was being said, but saw them glance in her direction once or twice. '_Curious about the knife ear, are you_?', she found herself thinking.

They finished before her, and got up to leave. However, before he did so, Alistair looked back and gave her a nod and a small smile. After a moment, Brenna returned the gesture. With that, Alistair left the tent along with his comrades. He really was a curious human.


	2. Chapter 2 Life Springing from Death

_Dear Maker, let her not be dead... Don't let me be alone in this..._

That was Alistair's first coherent thought after being told of what had happened at Ostagar. Ironic really. He had never been a religious person, had always felt that those who constantly turned to the Maker in times of woe and stress were kidding themselves... and yet here he was doing just the same.

He had no idea how much time had passed. Waves of pain at the death of his friends and comrades seemed to crash through him regularly, mixed with the desperate hope that this could all be some sick joke, or else that Flemeth was somehow wrong, had not seen correctly. And the hope that there was one more Grey Warden left alive. She had to be... she _must_ be.

And then Flemeth spoke.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much young man."

He turned quickly. There she was, exiting the hut, closing the door behind her. She was perhaps moving a little gingerly, as though still tender. But she was alive, and seemed mended. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

"You... you're alive." He choked out. A slight laugh of mingled shock and relief escaped him. "I-I thought you were dead for sure."

"I'm alright." Her voice was soft, her expression... odd. She seemed half happy, half confused. "I... appreciate your concern."

Was it his emotions about this that were confusing her? Surely her people showed such emotions? Then it clicked in his mind. For her, elves did. Humans didn't. Humans just showed anger and fear around her kind. Maker, he wanted to change that.

"This doesn't seem real... we should have been dead on that tower." He gave himself a little shake.

"Morrigan told me what has happened. What Teryn Loghain did." She must have seen the mixture of anger and pain cross his face, because she continued quickly. "Does this mean that we're the only Wardens left?"

"In Ferelden, yes. King Cailin had sent word to Weisshaupt seeking assistance, but they won't arrive for weeks, months even. That's too long to wait, we need an army."

He could see comprehension in her eyes. They were alone in this. They were the only ones who could act, who could take this Blight on.

"There must be _something_ we can do. Allies we can call on, aid we can seek?"

The word 'aid' sparked the idea in his head, and he let out a yell that made Brenna jump.

"_Aid_! The treaties! We can ask assistance from dwarves, mages and the Dalish, these treaties obligate them to help! And..." He was thinking fast. "There are others. Arl Eamon of Redcliffe never sent troops to help in the battle, he could still pledge forces..." He was excited now.

"Forgive me, but dwarves, elves, mages, and this Arl Eamon... this sounds like an army to me." Flemeth sounded amused by the turn this conversation had taken.

"Can we do this?" Alistair asked, his eyes on Brenna's; trying to read her reactions, to gauge what her thoughts were. Without knowing entirely why, he held his hand out to her. "Can we use these treaties and build this army?"

She hesitated for a few seconds, and he could see she was doing some serious thinking, weighing the options. Then she smiled, and her hand clasped his unexpectedly.

"Let's do it."

Lothering had been an eye-opener for Brenna. Certainly, she had been with other clan members has they had gone to villages to buy and sell items, but this had always taken place on the outskirts of the village. Humans were often too nervous of the Dalish to allow a group of them to come into their midst, even if it was just a group of three or four.

Lothering had been her first proper experience of a _shem _village. The air of fear of the impending darkspawn horde had been palpable in the air, and in the way the villagers had been acting. The place was beautiful, nonetheless. She couldn't help imagining what it would look like when the darkspawn were done with it.

She glanced up from the entrance of her tent, where she was polishing her blades. The Qunari, Sten, was stood slightly away from the fire itself, faced away from it. Brenna didn't need experience of other cultures to know that helping him would help their cause. And Leliana had certainly helped in that cause, persuading the Reverend Mother to help them.

Leliana was an enigma too. She had appeared pious, in her Chantry robes, but she had shown skill with the blade in her hand, and had told Brenna that her main experience was in archery. She doubted it was normal for a chantry initiate to be skilled in such things.

She got up, and stepped closer to the fire, her mind still on the nightmare she had woken from a short while ago. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the fire a short distance away that Morrigan was using. The witch seemed to favour being alone, and Brenna wasn't going to press the issue. Then she turned away. Alistair was closest, his eyes on the fire, plainly thinking. She headed towards him.

The Mabari – _her_ Mabari, she reminded herself – Bowen trotted over to her, stubby tail wagging. Brenna scratched behind his ears, and he gave a happy bark.

"Good boy." She said softly. She stopped beside Alistair. After a moment, she spoke. "Are you alright?"

He looked up. She knew she hadn't actively initiated conversation before, and that this would surprise him.

"Yeah, i'm fine, just... thinking."

Brenna took a seat alongside him, and spoke softly so the others would not hear.

"Do you want to talk about it? About Duncan?"

He opened his mouth as though he wanted to, before hesitating.

"You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as long as I did, I shouldn't..."

"He was like a father to you. I do understand." Her voice was gentle. He was clearly suffering, grieving. She didn't want him to suffer through it by himself. He looked away from her, towards the fire, before beginning to speak.

"I... should have handled it better. He warned me, you know, that this could happen. Any one of us could die in battle, any time. I shouldn't have lost it, not with so much at stake... the Blight and all of it." He looked at her, met her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Brenna gave a light smile. "There's no need to apologise."

"I'd like to give him a proper funeral... once this is all over. He came from Highever, I think, but didn't have any family to speak of."

"That sounds like a great idea. Perhaps..." She hesitated. "I could go with you?"

"I'd like that. He would too, I think." He hesitated for a moment. "The Dalish... you don't cremate your dead, do you?"

Brenna shook her head lightly.

"We say rites over them, then bury them in the earth. We plant a tree over the place, in memorial." She half expected him to laugh, or say something derogatory. Instead, he smiled.

"That sounds beautiful. Life springing from death. Thank you, really, it's helped to get it all out."

He really was a very curious human. "You're welcome." After a few moments hesitation, she asked. "Could I ask you something?"

"Certainly." He sounded a little surprised. Brenna felt a little embarrassed, but she was genuinely curious.

"I wanted to ask about cities. S... Human cities. What are they like?" Now he _looked_ very surprised. She was beginning to feel foolish for asking.

"You've never been to a human city?"

"Dalish live out in the forest, Alistair. The closest we get to human territory is little villages that let us trade with them. We would never be welcome near a city, and we're constantly moving."

"Yes... sorry, I forgot." He thought about it. "Do you know anything about cities?"

"A elf from the cities had arrived in my clan, just before I left. He was called Pol. He said it's very noisy and packed, and that elves live in a separate area from the humans."

"The Alienage, yes. Only servants and the odd labourer live with humans." He thought. "It's hard to describe. Your friend Pol was accurate. It is often very noisy and packed, lots of people living close together. In some communities, there is a sense of closeness and spirit."

"I just... can't imagine so many people living together in such a manner." Brenna said softly.

"Well, what's it like living with the Dalish? _That's _something I find difficult to imagine."

Brenna hesitated... but after all, where was the sense in refusing to tell him anything? From the sound of things, they would soon be visiting the Dalish. It was perhaps sensible to give him some information in advance.

"We're nomads. Everything we need is with us, and we travel as a community. We protect each other and love each other. But we're also fiercely protective of our culture and heritage, and distrustful of humans."

At that, he looked at her sharply.

"Are you distrustful? Of humans? Of me?"

"I... I have rarely had contact with humans before this. Every time i've met humans before now, it's been poachers in the forest, or bandits out to steal our provisions, or even slavers thinking they can take our hunters. We're driven away from villages and farmland as though we are a disease. Everything I have seen and been told until now has taught me that _shems_ will never trust us, and that we should not trust them."

He was watching her, could see the 'but' coming from her, clearly. She gave a soft sigh, then gave a faint smile.

"But... Duncan helped me. He brought me back to my clan, when without his help I would have died out there in the forest. He brought me into the Grey Wardens not just to save my life, but because of what he saw in me. And you... have treated me with kindness. I have no reason not to trust you."

It was the most she had spoken to him, the most she had spoken to _any_ human. Alistair seemed stunned for a moment, before giving her a smile.

"Thank you. For what it's worth... I don't see you as anything other then my fellow Grey Warden, and hopefully, a friend."

"I guess... we're nomads now, aren't we? We'll be on the road very often from now on."

He chuckled, warmth in his eyes. Brenna felt a swooping feeling in her stomach at the sound. Creators, what was happening to her?

"I suppose so. Only maybe not quite as comfortable nomads as the Dalish. We'll be on foot for the entire time, for one thing. Ahh, the luxuries of Warden life."

Brenna laughed, then got up and stretched.

"I suppose we should get some food started. Fancy helping me?"

"If there's cheese involved? Of course.

'Twas really quick sickening to watch.

Barely two days into their journey as companions on this quest, and already Morrigan's dislike of the mage-hunter had increased significantly. He was just so infuriatingly simple-minded, and so gullible to his own emotions. The journey from her mother's home to Lothering had been tedious. The elven woman had tried to talk to him, but it had been like trying to draw blood from a stone.

And yet now, after one simple talk between the two Wardens, suddenly he felt happier again? Why? What was the point in allowing emotions to govern one's mind? Only the weak allowed such foolishness.

This elven girl though... she was different. There was an underlying intelligence there, a quick mind. She had taken the role of leader on, not because she wished for it – in fact, she seemed to dislike the mantle of leadership – but because it was needed. Morrigan had believed there was certainly potential there.

Or at least, until the woman had accepted into her little company a Qunari and a prophesying ex-sister. The first, Morrigan understood. This Qunari was, without a doubt, an asset to their group. He was a soldier, or his people's equivalent of a soldier, and this they could use. But the ex-sister? Baffling, truly baffling.

Morrigan watched from her lone campfire as the elf... Brenna moved beside the fire, helping the oaf Alistair to prepare food. She was an odd one. Morrigan would have to keep her eyes on this one.


End file.
